Don't Call It That
by Chimaeran
Summary: Sherlock comes to John after what would be considered a nightmare and being naked becomes the more interesting topic. Warnings inside.


**Warnings: Well, there's smut, of course. Other than that, not much, in this one. But, it is smut with a slight plot.**

* * *

><p>"Are you sure it was a good idea for you to inspect that body, right before heading to bed? You know you'll never be able to calm your mind now, Sherlock." John said as he followed the other man up the stairs.<p>

Sherlock was too busy babbling to himself, incoherent to John of course, to have even heard the man. Once up to their flat, he waltzed in, immediately going to his bookshelf, pulling a few books off and frantically flipping through them.

"God, I could tell you I was going to shoot you in the back of the head and you'd just ignore it, wouldn't you?" Rolling his eyes, John sighed and went to the fridge, praying to God he didn't find another head or heart sitting in it.

Opening the door to find what seemed like normal food, he sighed in relief, only to jump back after moving a jar, finding what looked like a Human brain, in a bowl.

"For the love of-Sherlock! Please, could you not do this? I'd rather not die of a heart-attack. What if Mrs. Hudson were to look in here?"

"Sorry, were you talking to me?" The other man asked, looking up and giving the other a blank, though nearly expectant look.

"…nevermind. It's late, I'm going to bed. Don't be up too long, you haven't slept in days." Sherlock waved the other off dismissively before turning back to his books. Rolling his eyes again, John walked to his room, laying down in his bed and sighing.

"Bloody idiot, he'll be the death of himself." Sitting up, John stripped off his shoes and shirt, before opting to remove his pants and trousers as well, sliding under the blanket to get comfortable. As he reached to turn off his light, he could hear a quiet 'damn' from the other room and shook his head.

Sitting in the other room, occasionally getting up to pace about with a book in his hand, Sherlock kept himself busy by trying to solve the case he'd been offered. Of course, he was doing everything alone.

"If she died… that way… then her body would…" He mumbled under his breath to himself, though it fell on deaf ears, being that he was virtually alone in the flat as he honestly hadn't noticed John following him or heading to bed.

Dropping the book to the floor, Sherlock picked up another and began flipping through it. Normally, any usual person would flinch at the sight of a ripped open body; Sherlock however simply continued looking through the books.

Growing a bit tired, finally, he nearly passed out on the desk, before heading to bed. In his room, he stripped off all of his clothing, to bare bottom, and laid down. Staring up at the ceiling, he mumbled to himself; numbers, possible causes of death, how stupid the Police were, and various other things.

As the man's eyes drifted closed, he dozed off, the days of not sleeping finally getting to him. As he slept, he tossed and turned a bit, the images from before reeling in his head. However, he winced some when the body was no longer a woman, but a man. One man particular.

The death became more gruesome and bloodier, something that made even Sherlock flinch in his sleep. As he lay there, his eyes quickly snapped open and he sat up roughly.

"John-!" He looked around the room before feeling his forehead. It was damp with sweat, something that made the man stare at his hand in confusion before he slid out of the bed and headed to the other man's room.

Seeing that the man was sleeping peacefully in his room was relieving. As Sherlock entered, he closed the door behind him, before sliding onto the bed, straddling over the other, having forgotten he was naked.

"John… John… John Watson, wake up." He muttered, prodding at the other's cheek.

John stirred some and swatted at the hand. "Mn… what? What is it, Sherlock? It's-" He looked to the clock, "it's two in the morning…"

"Are you alive?"

"…what? I'm… what? Sherlock, the dead can't speak…"

"That's debatable… ok, so, you're alive? Good… good. I was having the strangest dream, you were the person who was killed, instead of that woman… it was much more brutal, bloodier-"

As the other rambled on and on, John rubbed his eyes, looking over Sherlock's body, before tensing, once he realized the other was not only straddling him, but naked. John could feel his cheeks heat up slightly at the sight.

"-and then when I tried to figure out how you'd died, the killer was there and he tried to kill me, which, of course, was a stupid idea… but before he did, he told me about how he'd ripped you apart and I was upset, but mostly because I couldn't figure out why or how-"

"Sherlock…"

"-so I just-"

"Sherlock…"

"-and he was strong, but I don't think it was a man who killed this woman, I think-"

"Sherlock!"

"-I… what?" He finally stopped, looking down at the other.

"Why… are you naked?" John asked, finally having the other's attention, before sitting up on his elbows, looking the other over.

"Nak-oh. I forgot about that." Sherlock said and smiled sheepishly. "It was comfortable, helped me think…"

"…couldn't you have put on trousers or something before coming in here?" John had to avert his eyes, not wanting to stare– or rather get caught staring –at the other. Sherlock was a gorgeous man, regardless of sexuality.

"The thought crossed my mind, after I'd made it in here, but I didn't think it necessary." He said and smiled some. "Why? It's not like it matters, right? We're flat-mates. As far as some of the Police think, we're 'lovers', as well."

"What? Wh-who said that?" John asked, sitting up a bit more. "I-I… not that… it's a problem-"

"I know it's not."

"-I just…" Even the pressures of War seemed easier than trying to speak of his sexuality with Sherlock. Sighing, he shook his head. "Just… warn me next time…"

Sherlock chuckled lightly before staring John in the eyes. "You're… cute when you stumble over your words like that. It must be interesting not being able to think in more than one way. Seems like it would be… boring."

"… 'cute'? I'm not cute." John said and cleared his throat. "I'm just…" His gaze wandered back to the other, taking in the sight of him naked again. He licked his lips absentmindedly and then shifted some. The brush of the fabric of his blanket and the pressure of the other sitting on him was really not helping his situation.

"Sherlock, could you maybe… get off of me?"

"I quite like it here. You're warm."

"I'm not warm, you're naked."

"Irrelevant." Sherlock said and then leaned a bit closer to the other. "Are you blushing? I think you're blushing, John. It suits you. It's prettier than a woman's blush."

"Stop saying things like that!" John said and then placed his hands on the other's hips to push him off, only to tense and choke out a small noise when Sherlock brushed up against him. "Bloody… please get off."

Sherlock's features curled into an all-too-amused grin, before he scooted down and wrenched the blanket off of the other. "Oh, John, for me?" He chuckled some and then moved back up, pressing to the other.

"Again, stop saying things like th-hnn..." He shuddered when he felt the other up against him. It had been quite some time since he'd been touched last, even by his own hand, being that Sherlock and the Police kept him busy, so any stimulation was like magic to him.

Placing his hands on the other's hips again, he tried to push him back. "Sherlock, please, it's two-thirty in the morning and I can't handle this…"

"Yes you can." Sherlock leaned forward, catching the other's lips with his own, kissing him lightly before drawing back only a few inches. "You said yourself that it wasn't a problem, why make it one? How about an experiment?"

"Don't call it that." John said. He wouldn't be another one of Sherlock's 'experiments'. "Don't call it, don't call _me_ that… and you can do as you please." Of course he was going to give in again.

"You mean it?" Sherlock's features seemed to brighten almost childishly. When John nodded, he kissed him again, this time deeper, his tongue prodding at the other's lips, before being welcome in. He could feel the caution in John's movements, but it only made him press on more.

Toying with the other's hair, Sherlock pressed his hips forward into the other's, causing a slight yelp that he caught with his mouth.

As Sherlock pulled his head back, John swallowed some. "Sorry… shall I?" He slid his hand down to the other's bottom, only to have Sherlock snatch his hand away and bring it to his lips. Kissing the other's finger tips, he smiled.

"They're shaking… are you nervous?" He asked, before taking one of the digits into his mouth, tonguing it slowly, watching the other's reaction. Even if John had asked him not to call it an experiment, it didn't mean he couldn't, well, experiment.

John watched Sherlock, his mouth slack as his fingers were lapped at and sucked. Why was he so good at everything he bloody well did?

As he pulled his hand away, earning a nod from the other, he reached it back down, slowly prodding at the other's entrance, before pushing a finger in slowly.

Sherlock let out a gasp, gripping to John's hair again. "Interesting…" He uttered and then let out a quiet, low moan when John curled his finger. "Slowly, I want to feel it all."

John obliged, moving his finger slowly inside of the other. It was an interesting feeling, mostly because he was so used to women, but it wasn't bad. Slowly, he added a second, moving them both just the same, in and out rhythmically, curling or scissoring them on occasion, twitching and biting his lip when he heard the other man's noises.

Man. Another man. And it was making his cock twitch to hear him.

"It felt strange when I did it, but you seem to know what you're doing." Sherlock uttered. Of course he'd done it once or twice, experimenting out of boredom and lack of sexual contact. "Nn… go ahead."

"What about lubrication?" John raised a brow and looked at the other, watching as Sherlock pulled away and slipped out of the room, only to come back a moment later with a small bottle of oil.

"Don't ask." He said simply and opened it, putting a small bit on John's member, causing him to hiss a bit. "Sorry, should have warmed it first." Rubbing his hand slowly, Sherlock took his place on the other's lap again.

"You're sure?" He earned a nod from the other man.

"I want to ex...pierence it…" He saved himself, correcting his words so the other wouldn't be angry. Tensing as John pulled his hips down, Sherlock let out a brief gasp at the intrusion. "John…"

"Pain?" Sherlock shook his head 'no', so John pressed in, to the hilt, letting the other adjust. "Is it too much?" Again, a 'no'. "Very well." Lifting Sherlock's hips, he began to move slowly, watching the man's face.

He was handsome. It was a wonder he hadn't had women around him; though, it didn't really turn many people on to hear about dead bodies or crime scenes. John we a bit of a special case.

As he moved, John felt Sherlock's hands on his shoulders and hair, urging him on, as well as a few moans and noises. It brought a smile to his face to hear the man saying his voice in such a lusty way.

"John…" Sherlock said and leaned down, kissing the corner of the other's mouth. "Harder, I can take it…" He uttered, just audible enough for the other man. And John obliged him, moving his hips up a bit harder, causing him to moan.

Soon John's hips were moving at a steady pace, nothing too rough, but enough to make the bed creak. Their bodies began to slick slightly, sweat finally welling to the surface. John changed their positions, laying Sherlock down as he held the other's hip, moving into him.

He earned an interesting noise from the other man when his prostate was brushed and it made him smirk; made him thrust harder, particularly in that spot.

Sherlock could feel his release coming. Holding onto John, he panted the other's name, before arching his back, spilling himself onto his stomach.

John was a bit after, having pushed in deep to the other, spilling inside of him, before slumping over, his hands on either side of Sherlock's head, smiling down at the other, watching his chest rise and fall, then looking up to his messy curls.

Pulling out and then dropping down next to the other, he sighed. "Well, was that enough?"

"Well have to repeat the experiment; I don't think I got enough data." He winked. John proceeded to grunt and nudge his arm, only making Sherlock laugh. "Yes, I love you, too, John."


End file.
